


firefights are so yesterday

by KilltheDJ



Series: life in the zones (and a couple years after) [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Action, Gen, life in the zones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilltheDJ/pseuds/KilltheDJ
Summary: The Girl doesn't have time for this. She doesn't have time for a reunion, or a firefight, but it's not as bad as it usually is.
Relationships: DJ Hot Chimp & The Girl
Series: life in the zones (and a couple years after) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137416
Comments: 13
Kudos: 18





	firefights are so yesterday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JamieGaylePiff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieGaylePiff/gifts).



She’s fifteen and she’s wearing her heart in her throat, choked back by the leather jacket she’s wearing, and she’s got a baseball bat in her head, it’s stained in something that isn’t quite blood and isn’t quite oil, her cat curled around her shoulders, and smoke stinging her eyes. 

In her defense, she hadn’t  _ meant  _ to walk out into the middle of a firefight, hadn’t known there was even a firefight going on, but now she’s in the middle of it and she’s pretty fucking sure that she’s the only one getting out of it alive. 

She’s getting quite tired of that feeling. 

Hiding behind an old concrete barrier gives her cover, but she’s dressed mostly in dark colors so it’s hard to rule out friendly fire with the smoke, the black smoke mingling with purple because some  _ dumbass  _ thought it best to throw a smoke grenade. 

Things have stalled to a halt for now. 

Maybe everyone’s catching their breath, or maybe it’s starting to dawn that everyone’s going to die like a bad horror movie because they barked up the wrong tree. Either or, really, and the Girl doesn’t have  _ time  _ for this, she has a meeting with Tommy Chow Mein in thirty minutes and he’s not going to hold for a customer that might not show with a firefight in the Zone over. 

Fourteen Dracs, ten Killjoys, the Dracs looked fresh - with blood still staining old clothes - and the Killjoys were young and inexperienced, probably nothing more than fresh-faced kids, and  _ fuck,  _ she should get away while she can. 

Unfortunately, it feels like a betrayal to  _ leave  _ and let them all get ghosted and she has a heart, thank you very much, ignoring the rumors.

The Girl sighs as she pushes the end cap of the baseball bat into the ground, grinding it into the pavement, tapping it a couple of times, in case no one saw her standing up like a Late Liner in the middle of a firefight. 

“I really have somewhere to be,” she says, and she says it  _ loudly,  _ because it’s true and because it denotes her as an ally to the Killjoys, and a target for the Draculoids. 

Another unfortunate circumstance, but this time for the Dracs as she ducks into a crouch to keep from getting a blast to the chest, lighting over her head and barely singeing the top of her curls. Yeah, the Girl’s more than used to a firefight. 

Learning how to use any weapon she could get her hands on when she was little helped. 

For now, that can’t help her, and she grimaces as the tell-tale smell of burnt flesh enters her nose, but she can’t stop now, because she’s dropped out of the Drac’s range of vision - a downside of that shitty vampire mask - and if she moves slow enough, careful enough, she’s not visible in the lightening smoke as she crawls forward. 

A ray gun would be nice, sure, but she sold her last one for a can of tuna - it was nothing special, just something she’d gotten out of a vending machine in ‘2, but everyone assumes it’s a relic when she’s the one selling. 

“Tick, tock,” she mumbles, sing-songs, really, because she’s less than a foot away from a Drac - that isn’t advancing, interesting -. 

If the Drac hears her or not is unknown, as her baseball bat’s slams into the front of the Dracs knees, hearing a  _ pop  _ that’s meant for cracking bones, and the Girl’s ducking away from the falling body before she gets crumpled, snatching the ray gun from bruised, sickly pale fingers. 

The joys of a fresh fuckin’ Drac. 

She doesn’t have the time to think on it - how drab, she was getting rather comfortable with the feeling of combat, the combat that didn’t mean much when she’s used to it - because the blast of light that emanates from the stolen, bright white blaster in her hands alerts the other - quick count, seven - Draculoids that are still standing. 

_ Fuck.  _

Cat meows on her shoulder, clearly uncomfortable with all the movement, and the Girl sighs for the second time, shifting her shoulder back and leaning awkwardly to the ground while taking aim at an available target so Cat can jump off. 

For once, things go right, a Drac goes down, Cat jumps off, all is fucking peachy; all the Killjoys are still kicking, too, and isn’t that a feat, but they aren’t doing much and she realizes she’s dropped the baseball bat she’d been using, leans over to pick it up, but - 

But a knee slams into her nose and her vision goes white before she has the chance, blood a steady, cold sensation across her burning face, stumbling back and onto the ground and she’s  _ not  _ the one fuckin’ dying in this fight but that’s hard to fathom when her  _ face  _ hurts so fucking - 

_ MEOW.  _

The Girl blinks, and blinks, and blinks and things go back to normal but she can’t quite move her mouth without it hurting and her  _ eyes  _ hurt like hell, too, but she stuffs that in the back of her head like she’d been taught and clumsily fumbles for the baseball bat, not  _ swinging  _ it so much as jamming it into the nearest Drac’s leg, and - and yeah. 

_ Fuck. _

“Thanks, Cat,” the Girl mumbles, and if it didn’t hurt so much she’d give better praise. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. 

By the time she’s on her feet again, the smoke has cleared out and there’s only a Drac left standing, of which she leaves for the Killjoys, and Cat’s standing by her feet, swishing their tail, content with life. 

“Fuck you,” the Girl mumbles again, and yeah, maybe she  _ does  _ talk to her cat too much, but she still crouches down to let them crawl back onto her shoulders, nuzzling against the side of their head. 

Usually, they’d go for her cheek, but maybe they understand that her eye is starting to swell and so’s her nose. 

Tommy’s gonna charge extra for bleeding on the floor when she buys bandages.  _ Ugh.  _

Before she has the chance to turn tail and pick up the stolen ray gun that’d she’d gotten from the Drac - a ray gun becomes yours once you’ve spilled blood with it -, the Killjoys are approaching her, and - 

Hey. She recognizes one of them. 

“It’s been a while,” DJ Hot Chimp muses, holding her arm, though there isn’t any blood as far as the Girl can tell. She looks similar to when Girl last saw her, a couple years ago, though she’s shed the blond-with-pink-streaks for the pink-with-turquoise streaks. A homage to Newsie, the Girl presumes; she’d heard they got engaged recently. “Didn’t know you got so good in a firefight, kid.” 

“Didn’t know you were in the business of leading strays around,” the Girl shrugs, because she really has to get out of here because she  _ finally  _ has the carbons and there’s something at Paradise Motel she needs to buy. 

(She’s tired of fucking walking everywhere.) 

Chimp hums, nodding vaguely over her shoulder. “Yeah, those fuckers don’t know the difference between a sunburn and an infected wound. I know because I asked them about it. ‘M helpin’ Bombshell on a mission, it pays pretty neat.” 

“I’m sure it does,” the Girl says, politely, because she needs to  _ go,  _ and Cat politely meows in her ear, licking a scratchy tongue on her ear shell.  _ Gross.  _ “I need to get to Paradise Motel, though, like, -  _ now,  _ I don’t need another trip down memory lane.” 

Chimp  _ laughs,  _ actually laughs, and the Girl hopes it’s from the stress of being outgunned in a firefight without any experienced Killjoys rather than her hurry. 

The Girl figures it’s a hard thing to cope with, especially when you have people that you’re leaving behind, but she doesn’t know what that’s like, and she doesn’t intend on trying to figure it out anytime soon. 

“Yeah, I ain’t planning on giving you one. I’m sure you get it a lot. Hey, why don’t I give you a ride to Paradise Motel to get you outta this heat, and I yell at Tommy till he stops whining? Call it payback for saving our skin back there.” 

She doesn’t know if that’s a good idea, and it isn’t, probably, since the past’s going to get dredged up whether the Girl wants it to or not, but she still nods silently, a grateful smile tugging at her lips. 

It’s another day in the Zones. It’s the first in a while, though, she’s talked to more than her cat and had the promise of more than just sand, sand, more sand, occasional ditch, and, well - she’s got a feeling she can sweet-talk Chimp into buying the other items for her. 


End file.
